


do you loose what won't return? (did you love but never learn?)

by orphan_account



Category: IT (2017)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Infinity War spoilers, M/M, Suicide mention, THAT scene from infinity war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 21:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14481903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "I don't know what's happening. I don't want to go."





	do you loose what won't return? (did you love but never learn?)

After Richie launched himself at the stupid fucking clown, things had sort of blurred for Stanley. His face still burned and ached, and he still felt weak in the knees. He went to fight anyway, of course. They were the  _Losers Club._ They had each other’s backs no matter what, everybody else was fighting. Stan could fight, too. 

He found himself getting into it, focusing on himself and what he was doing. He saw the other Losers through out the battle but it wasn’t until they all pulled themselves up from the ground that Stan found himself cold and clammy with realization.

He hadn’t seen Richie in the long time.

He whipped around and saw the boy standing not far away. His back was hunched over and he was holding his stomach tightly. Stan was moving towards him, resting his hands onto his shoulder blades. Richie started shivering immediately at the touch.

“I.. I don’t feel very well.” 

Richie turned, his face starch white and body visibly trembling. Stan’s gaze fell down to where Richie was holding himself, and gagged at the sight of deep red dripping from his fingers. 

“Rich…”

Richie tried to moved but stumbled into Stan. Stan let out high pitched whine at the sticky, warm, wet feeling that coated him the moment Richie’s body touched his. 

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Richie squeaked into Stan’s shoulders as Stan’s arms came around to hold him close. He sounded more scared than Stan had ever heard him, worse even than when he had his fight with Bill the month before or after any run-in with Bowers. “I don’t know what’s  _happening._ I don’t want to go, Stan, I don’t want to go.” 

Stan broke under Richie’s dead weight and they dropped to the wet ground. Stan laid Richie down and hovered above him, eyes staring off into to just past Stan’s face. “You’re alight,” Stan said, knowing how frantic he must of sounded. 

Off in the distance, Stan could hear Beverly crying and the hushed whispers of Bill and Eddie but his attention was quickly drawn back to Richie as he gave a harsh, wet cough. 

“I’m sorry…” Richie said in the weakest voice before his eyes seemed to gaze over completely. Stan’s heart lurched and he was pretty sure he was going to throw up. 

“Hey, Richie, Rich, no.” Stan shook at Richie’s unresponsive form. “No, no, no, Richie,  _no.”_

_“_ Stanley.” He felt Bill’s hand coming out to grasp at his shoulder but Stanley violently jerked him off. 

What was it Ben did? Ben brought Beverly back from the dead, he did, Stan had seen him. He’d… oh.  _Oh._ Stan threw himself forward and pressed his lips to Richie’s. There was spontaneous awakening, no bright flashing fireworks of love. There was just…. cold, chapped lips pressed unmoving against Stan’s. 

He could hear Eddie gagging behind him and that’s what set Stan off. Stan yanking himself away from Richie- from  _Richie’s body-_  and released what seemed like everything he’d eaten in the last month. 

“Aw, fuck.” Mike was behind him and pulling him to his feet. Stan rested his entire weight on Mike as he lead him away. Away from Richie, away from his best friend, the boy he may have loved.

For weeks, Stan looks down at the ground as he walked past a  _Missing Richie Tozier,_ poster. The poster never gets covered up, nobody else goes missing and Richie’s poster haunts him everyday for a year. 

_27 years later_

Stan ran the bath water with the distinct image of coke bottle glasses and buck teeth in his mind. Images of terrible Hawaiian shirts and dirty sneakers. Of bloody hands and scared cries in a dark sewer. 

_I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t want to go, Stan, I don’t want to go. I’m sorry._

Stan didn’t want to go either, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to face that clown again and knew he would never bail on Losers if he were alive. So he slips into the water and lets his eyes close with brown eyes and wiry curls in his mind.


End file.
